


Knowing

by Savageseraph



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blow Jobs, Community: contrelamontre, Desire, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Incest, Loss, M/M, Regret, Sibling Incest, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-17
Updated: 2005-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as the door to his rooms closes, Faramir pushes Aragorn back against the heavy oak, slips a leg between Aragorn's legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> I started this as an improv fic for [](http://community.livejournal.com/contrelamontre/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/contrelamontre/)**contrelamontre** many, many moons ago. I didn't save the challenge, my bad, but the title of the file is "Verb Tenses," so I've cleverly deducted that it must have been about writing scenes in different tenses.

As soon as the door to his rooms closes, Faramir pushes Aragorn back against the heavy oak, slips a leg between Aragorn's legs. "I want you," he murmurs against his King's throat as his hands migrate down Aragorn's sides and curve around his buttocks.

"I can tell," Aragorn says, as he tips his head back and to the side to give Faramir better access.

"I was hard for you during dinner." Faramir worries about the bluntness of his words as he rubs against Aragorn, as he kisses and sucks on the pale skin of his throat. "Just hearing your voice, smelling you when you lean close to talk to me, it makes my cock throb." The words make Aragorn shudder.

Of all his other lovers, Faramir has only ever spoken so to one, the one who taught him the potency of such of words. Their power to seduce, to enflame. When Aragorn's hips thrust against Fararmir, he relaxes, unwinding more as he feels Aragorn's erection pressed into his thigh.

"Aragorn..." He uses the name to fix his desire, tether it to the man standing in front of him. "I need you."

"I would not have it said that I do not see to my subject's needs." Aragorn pushes Faramir back, drops to his knees.

"No, I..." Faramir groans as Aragorn's mouth closes over him, shudders as Aragorn takes him deep. His fingers clench in Aragorn's hair. So good. It's so damn good, even though it isn't what he wants. The quick, hard release that Aragorn brings him. No, he'd like more play, more teasing licks and slowness but he has never told Aragorn this. He doesn't have to. Aragorn already knows the reason why.

###

_Faramir was no virgin when he and Boromir became lovers, but he brought more enthusiasm and desire to their couplings than he did skill. That he learned from his brother. No one in the city of Minas Tirith, least of all Boromir, ever accused him of being anything less than an eager student._

_He spent many nights on his knees in Boromir's room, a room that smelled peppery, of lavender and sage, while his brother murmured instructions about breathing and encouragement. His fingers caressed Faramir's cheeks and jaw and throat, coaxed him to relax. He never forgot the first night when his lips brushed Boromir's belly, his nose nudged at blonde curls that were heady with his brother's musk._

###

Aragorn kneels for him, giving him the service he knows he must have paid to his brother. When Aragorn's hand curls around his hip, when his fingers press inside, Faramir imagines that they are his brother's and has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from calling Boromir's name when he comes.

When Aragorn stands, the dark hair startles Faramir. "Now, I'm the needy one." As he brings Faramir's hand to his cock, Faramir tenses. He hopes Aragorn does not press on his shoulders, urge him to his knees to suck him off. He thinks that he may well choke if Aragorn enters his mouth. He's always kept them distinct, their scents, their desires. _Needs_ to keep them distinct. He can't take Aragorn in his mouth while the memory of his brother's cock is still lodged deep in him.

Aragorn's hands do rest on his shoulders, but he uses them to encourage Faramir back toward the bed. Clothes are discarded before Aragorn pushes him back against the cool sheets. Aragorn's mouth is hard, hungry, as he kisses Faramir, nipping and licking his chest. Fararmir's legs part, wrap around Aragorn's waist. His body arches up into Aragorn's when Aragorn presses his cock against Faramir's and rubs against him. He groans as his own cock stirs sluggishly, struggles back to hardness.

When Aragorn tenses slightly, Faramir closes his eyes, anticipates the hands that nudge his legs away from Aragorn's body, that urge him over onto his belly. Their touch is as familiar as the fingers that slip into him, thrusting and rubbing and teasing until he sweating and shuddering, until he can't stop the broken cries that fall from his lips, can't stop his hips from rising up, pushing back, wordlessly pleading for more.

Even though Faramir expects it, the quick, hard thrust that sheathes Aragorn deep in his body surprises a desperate cry from him. He can't help struggling as Aragorn's fingers curl around his cock, stroking him as ruthlessly as he is fucking him. Just once, he'd like Aragorn to leave him on his back, close his hand around both their cocks and bring them off together, but he has never told Aragorn this.

He doesn't have to. Faramir already knows the reason why.


End file.
